


My Frozen Valentine

by Ranger_of_Estel



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Caregiver!Sara, F/M, Fluff, Injured!Leonard, Mixen implied, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranger_of_Estel/pseuds/Ranger_of_Estel
Summary: Excerpt:“This isn’t exactly how I envisioned you undressing me.” He whispers as she pulls the undershirt over his head.Her hands pause on his belt, a small laugh escaping her. “Well it’s good to know jumping into a freezing river wasn’t your plan for getting me in bed.”





	My Frozen Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr's ficcingcaptaincanary prompt: Oh crap, I’m wet and freezing and you’re the only one who can warm me up. 
> 
> A little Valentine's day fluff. Set sometime in an alternate S2 where they've rescued Snart (and Amaya chooses Mick).

* * *

  

              “Where are you Crook?” Sara sighs, pulling the collar of her jacket up a little higher against the biting wind funneling between shipping containers. She reaches up to her com, “What was he doing down here anyway?”

                “Not sure,” Mick replies gruffly.

                “One dinner,” she grumbles, “I just wanted one nice meal, is that so impossible?” She hears his bark of laughter bounce off of shipping containers to her left somewhere. “I know, I know.” She spins the silver ring on her pinky. “Alexa”

                “I’m sure Boss is fine Blondie,” Mick replies a little more gently

                “He called you from a strange number and –” she cut off, moving to inspect a red print on a container, her fingers smearing it “I’ve got blood, recent.” She picks up her pace.

                “Where are you?” She could hear his heavy footfalls over the earpiece.

                “I went for the middle, must be near the water because –“ She freezes at the sight of the huddled figure. “Leonard!” she runs to his side, hissing as cold water seeps into her jeans as she hits her knees.

                “Hey Birdie,” he focuses on her, taking a shuddering breath.

                “Blondie,” Mick sounds slightly winded.

                “He’s alive,” she replies, reaching out to look for injury. “You’re soaked!” she growls, hands shifting over the dark dress coat.

                “Better than being shot,” he shakes his head as she continues to check him over, “Not injured,”

                Mick comes to a stop next to her and she glances up at him. “He’s not wounded but has mild –”

                “Moderate, you took to long.” He corrects, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter.

                “He’s hypothermic,” She glares, though they both know it’s to cover the concern. “We need to get him dry and warm, now.” She frowns, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to the ship.”

                “Safe house,” Mick states, bending down to wrap one of Leonard’s arms over his shoulder. “We have one not far from here.” He hooks his other hand into the smaller man’s belt to keep him standing.

                “Fine,” Sara looks at the shivering thief, “Just hurry.”

                They start walking slowly at first, Leonard focusing on not stumbling as his partner guides them. He is fighting the fog in his mind when Sara’s scorching hand takes his free one, “What happened Len?”

                He turns to look at her, her eyes scanning his face as her thumb rubs circles on the back of his hand. “Ran into some old friends,” she could hear the chatter of his teeth, “They weren’t so happy to see me, we had a disagreement.” He stumbles and Mick grunts.

                “Almost there,” the larger man motions to an ally ahead. “Gonna need you to pick the lock Blondie,”

                She nods, darting ahead. By the time they reach her the door is open and she’s disappeared inside. It’s a small space; the door opening into a kitchenet, the only differentiation from the living room being the change from wood to dirty carpet. The latter has a single couch, a bookshelf and fireplace. Mick takes him into the even tinier bedroom on the left where Sara has already pulled the sheets back on the twin bed. Once Len is sitting on the side she motions to the living room. “Start a fire for me?”

                “Course Blondie,” he gives his partner one last glance before leaving for the main room.

                Sara comes to his side, taking a moment to appreciate his clothes. His in a navy dress shirt with a matching suit coat, dark slacks and she’s pretty sure his shoes are polished. Even soaked he is striking, she can only imagine how much more so he would be when smirking at her before offering his arm. But as another shiver overtakes him she’s reminded he doesn’t have time for such thoughts. “First thing is to get you dry.” She gently takes one arm out of his jacket then the other, tossing it onto the floor before moving to the shirt.

                “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned you undressing me.” He whispers as she pulls the undershirt over his head.

                Her hands pause on his belt, a small laugh escaping her. “Well it’s good to know jumping into a freezing river wasn’t your plan for getting me in bed.”

                “Hey,” she looks up at his words, “I’ll be alright Assassin.”

                “You better be,” she states, pulling the slacks off. The unspoken _I can’t lose you again_ hanging in the air as she drops down to remove his shoes. Normally he’d feel self-conscious about so much of his skin exposed even to her. But as she strips him, replacing his wet underclothes with something dry from the tiny dresser he finds it’s all he can do to stay awake. Soon she has him tucked under a small mountain of blankets, “I’ll be right back,” she whispers, moving out into the main room.

                Mick has a fire going and is digging through what looks like a small storage space. As she approaches he gives a victorious shout and pulls out a small space heater. “It will be a while before the fire gets things warm.” He states, turning to hand it to her.

                She nods and takes it from him, “Thank you Mick.”

                “What else?”

                She shakes her head, “There is nothing else you can do for now,” she offers a weak smile, “Go back to the ship, you and Amaya go enjoy dinner.”

                He frowns, “I’m not leaving you and Boss.”

                “She’s been looking forward to this, and there’s no reason for the reservations to go to waste.” She lays a hand on his arm, “I promise to text you as soon as there is a change.”

                He watches her for a long moment before finally sighing. “Fine. But I get a feeling you’re lying to me and I will break down that door.”

                She smiles, “I expect nothing less.”

                This seems to settle him and he agrees. Once she’s seen him out, door locked behind him, she returns to the little room and gets the heater running near the bed. She tosses her own damp clothes near his before sliding under the sheets. Gasping slightly as she comes into contact with his cool skin, but she notes that the shaking has lessened. He shifts, pulling her closer before tucking his face into her shoulder. At first she can’t find words, just reaches up to rest a hand against his neck and the other at his back, willing him to warm against her.

                “I’m sorry,” His voice is quiet, but not as weak as before.

                “Len-,”

                “No,” his breath is distracting as it runs across her shoulder, “You were supposed to enjoy tonight, an instead you have to come looking for me.” 

                “It’s fine,” she traces absently across his back, “Besides, your evening got ruined too.”

                He presses a light kiss to her shoulder, “No; I’ve still got you, and that’s enough.”

                She inhales at his words, blinking back tears as she reminds herself that he’s still suffering from the hypothermia, and is likely delirious. She forces herself to focus on the sound of his heart beating steadily against hers, the way his breathing is evening out or how he no longer feels so cold pressed against her.

                When Sara wakes the next morning she’s still tucked against his chest; his head resting lightly atop hers and one of his arms holding her close by the waist. At some point they kicked most of the extra blankets to the end of the bed, or tossed them off entirely. She lets herself enjoy the quiet intimacy. Eventually she has to get up, and moves slowly out of his hold. Lingering on the side of the bed, noticing how at peace he looks, how soft his features become when he’s not guarded. Her eyes trail down to his partially revealed chest but stop at the top of a scar. She knows he doesn’t like them being seen, and while she had no choice the previous night she wouldn’t force him to reveal that part of himself until he was ready. Instead she pulls the sheet up a little higher before making her way to the dresser. She grabs her jeans but pulls out a sweater in favor of her still damp shirt. It’s a deep blue, and smells like the wood dresser, but with a hint of the peppermint she associates with him. It reaches half way down her thighs, and she has to bunch up material at her wrists as she makes her way out of the bedroom.

                Once the fire is started once more she returns to the room and grabs the wet clothes from the floor, something falling from his jacket. She retrieves the small box, wrinkling and fragile after the river, but still holding together. She sets it on the small island before going to hang clothes near the fire. There’s not much in the way of food. Some cereal but no milk, some moldy bread on the counter and beer in the fridge. She finds cocoa and stale marshmallows during her search through cabinets and smiles. Eventually she finds some coffee and the pot near the sink; before long she’s perched on the island with a mug and staring down at the long, thin box.

                “Unless you’ve gotten X-ray vision staring holes through the box won’t help you.” She looks up at the familiar drawl, watching as Leonard closes the distance between them.

                “How are you feeling?” She tilts her head.

                “Good as new,” he replies, “Not my first time almost freezing to death,”

                “Yeah, let’s not make this our thing alright?” they share a small smile and she motions to the stove. “There’s coffee,”

                He nods, and she realizes he’s only wearing one layer as he reaches up for a mug and it reveals the small of his back. When he turns, he offers a raised brow, “See something you like?”

                She shrugs, “Just not used to seeing you in only a shirt.”

                “Well,” he walks over, stepping in the space between her legs. “You happen to have stolen my usual choice.”

                She just grins, setting her coffee down before resting her arms on his shoulders. “I’m thinking about keeping it.”

                “Well,” he smirks, “My clothes do look good on you.” She flushes slightly and he leans forward for a chaste kiss, “So what did you think?”

                She tilts her head at him, hands still laced behind his neck. “About what?” He motions toward the box and she releases him to look over at it once more. “Haven’t opened it.” She shrugs.

                “Why?” he sounds genuinely puzzled.

                “Because,” she draws the word out, glancing at the box again. “I wasn’t sure it was mine.”

                He scoffed, “Who else would I have been carrying it for Lance?”

                “Lisa, or it could have been something you grabbed for Mick since he was still on the ship.” She gave him a disapproving look, “Did you get thrown into a river for robbing a jewelry store on Valentine’s day?”

                “No,”

                “But it is stolen,” it’s more statement than question.

                He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. “Is that a problem?”

                She reaches over to trace along the top of it, “That you thought of me on a heist?” her eyes return to his, “Actually, it’s kinda sweet.” She picks it up, then frowns. “I didn’t get you anything.”

                He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t expecting you to.” His words from the previous night echo back through her mind. Then he continues, “So are you going to keep staring at it all day?”

                She briefly sticks her tongue out at him before pulling the top free, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. Inside is a silver necklace, with a six arm snowflake pendant. There’s a light blue gem at the end of each arm, six diamonds are nestled between them. A larger blue gem rests in the center. She runs a finger across it, “Len…” she looks up and finds him watching her intently, “It’s beautiful!”

                He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “It matches your eyes.”

                “I was thinking of your gun,” she replies, gaining a small chuckle from him.

                He frowns, brow furrowing slightly. “What’s wrong?” he reaches out, wiping away a tear as it began sliding down her cheek.

                “Nothing, I just.” She takes a shaky breath. His hands slide down to rest over hers, but he waits as she takes a moment to pull back her emotions. “When I was with Ollie it was nothing but a game; and then when I was rescued by the league I met Nyssa.” She meets his gaze, “And she loved me, I know she did, but her place as Heir to the demon would always come first.”

                “Sara why are you –“

                “Did you mean it?” she cuts in, tears still shimmering in her eyes. “Last night you said that I was enough…and I’ve never been that to anyone.”

                “Yes, always.” he reaches up, cradling her face in his hands. Then leans in to press his lips to hers, an action she reciprocates. He doesn’t know how to explain it, isn’t sure when she became so very important. But when he’d been forced to choose between protecting the team and fighting Mick, he’d chosen her. Between escaping or launching the rescue mission, he’d chosen her. When he could choose to return to his old life or stay aboard the cramped little ship, he’d dreamed of her. As they pull away for air he rests his forehead to hers, “I will always choose you Sara, no matter the circumstance.”

                And the way she grins has his heart soaring, and he decides to embrace this. Embrace the second chance he’d been given to find out exactly what ‘me and you’ might have in store.


End file.
